


(Im)Perfect Reality

by Afoolforatook



Series: An Anthology of Affection [31]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sappy Old Men, Wedding, two cry babies, who never let themselves cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afoolforatook/pseuds/Afoolforatook
Summary: Perfect wasn't a word they used with each other.Perfect was too much, too daunting, too exhausting.Their lives were too complex for perfect.But every now and then they could have something that was simpler.Something that could just be perfect.---------------------Part 31Saw a post of kissing prompts. Liked a bunch of them. Decided to give myself a daily challenge to get myself actually publishing things while I work on bigger projects.One prompt a day. Under 1500 words (or close to it).
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: An Anthology of Affection [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805008
Comments: 13
Kudos: 42





	(Im)Perfect Reality

Prompt 31 - Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

(Im)Perfect Reality

\--------------------------------------

Neither of them had ever been very public criers. Definitely not before they got together, and while it might have become slightly more common after, it was still a rarity. 

Clover was more prone to happy tears. To little sniffling laughs and watery-eyed smiles. He showed his love on his (absent) sleeve with much more ease than his pain. When scared or upset he was calculated, stoic, a soldier pushing through. Even with Qrow, with all he had helped Qrow deal with, letting himself really cry in front of his partner, his boyfriend, was something that had taken time. But Clover didn’t just wait till he was alone to unbottle his pain. He hid it even from himself. He denied its existence, tried to logic it away, to convince himself it was pointless, it was flawed, it was weak. It was selfish. And when he couldn’t just write it off, he avoided it. He told himself he’d deal with it later; when he was less busy; when he could think clearer; when he’d had more time to heal. And then he never did. 

Qrow had two settings when it came to crying. On and off. There weren’t the little sniffles, the touched tears. He was caring and certainly moved by plenty of things. But he’d spent so long building up his resistance to tears that there were few things that could get through it. But when he did cry. It was crushing. Even happy tears, held back for as long as he could until he was alone, were overwhelmed by the pressure he’d built up. One thing would set him off and within minutes it had burned through a chain of emotions and he couldn’t even remember why he was crying because he was crying for everything. Good, bad, pain, love. And that had always been on his own, a private, almost ritualistic, thing so that he didn’t crack his hard-earned, faked, composure. But unlike Clover, he’d opened up much easier when with his partner. It was still a difficult thing, of course. But where Clover could cork it all back up if he began to slip, Qrow would reach a point of no return, and regardless of the shame or the guilt or the embarrassment, there was no stopping it. 

That was why, as they said their vows, as they kissed, as they listened to their friends and family congratulate them, Clover might have gotten a little misty, his voice might have wavered just the slightest, but Qrow was solid. He watched his new husband with a tender, reverent, look, he melted as the kids rushed to hug him. But he didn’t cry. 

Clover was the only one who noticed how hard he was working to do that though. He was the one who saw his eyes shut, and the heavy swallow, before he started his vows. He was the only one who felt the shakiness of his breath as they kissed. He was the only one who noticed his hands clench in his niece's dresses as they piled onto him, his head tilt back and eyes scrunch before he let them go and shot some teasing remark. 

Clover was the only one who found him hidden around a corner, breathing heavily as he pinched at his nose, during the reception. 

The brunet leaned carefully against the wall beside his husband, waiting for him to speak first. 

“I know, Cloves. I know.” 

Clover was the only one who heard the faint tremble in his voice. 

Qrow dropped his hand and looked over, meeting fond teal eyes. 

Clover saw the immediate gulp, the quiver in his brow, the tight bite on the inside of his lip, as he immediately looked away from him, pulling his hands down his face slowly. 

“I can’t. Not yet. I… If I start I’m not going to be able to stop and I don’t want that to be what this all is. I just…” he reached over without looking, lacing their fingers together gently. “I just want this to be happy, Clover. Because I am. And I don’t want to let all of that worm it’s way into this too.” 

He sighed and Clover was about to raise their entwined hands when Qrow cut in. 

“Nope. Nope don’t do that. Don’t be sweet. What, are you _trying_ to sabotage our wedding by breaking my composure, huh?” 

He snipped. Clover was the only one who saw the fond smile. 

He dropped Qrow's hand and threw his own up, backing away. “Right, right. Sorry, what was I thinking!? I’m a monster.”

A short pause as he thought, a smug smirk on his face. “Actually, I’m an angel. I have so many things I could say right now that would get you. But I won’t. Because I’m a good _husband_.” He teased the last word, grinning with enough snark that he knew he wouldn’t actually push too hard. 

Clover wasn't sure if he just imagined it, but Qrow’s hair seemed to puff up slightly, like ruffled feathers. He didn’t know if the thought made him want to laugh or kiss him more. 

Qrow scowled and rolled his eyes at the taunt. “Awful. You’re absolutely awful. What have I gott-” He cut himself off, and glared at his retreating partner a little more genuinely as his voice cracked. 

Clover just shrugged and winked as he slipped back around the corner, Qrow following a few moments later, once he’d taken a few deep breaths. 

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly enough, though Clover did catch a few moments where Qrow’s hand clenched, or his thumb went to flick at his rings anxiously. His old rings. Not the new one. Clover could tell he was actively avoiding acknowledging the new one. 

But the party ended without incident. They thanked everyone and said goodbye, and then they headed home. Their little cabin on Patch, not far from Tai’s. Maybe they’d take a real honeymoon eventually, but they both knew they’d traveled plenty.

Home was where they wanted to be that night. Home was where they wanted to be from then on. 

Home with each other. 

Each other, home. 

No one was carried over the threshold, no small pauses were taken to acknowledge the difference between when they’d left that morning and then as they returned.

Clover didn’t say any of the things he wanted to, the comforts, the tender promises, the soft reassurances. 

He just waited graciously, knowing Qrow would find his moment when he was ready. 

It almost happened walking into their room. Clover had gone first, ready to hang his vest up. But as he passed through the door he felt a light tug at the back of his shirt. He knew that tug. That little bit of contact when everything was too much; when Qrow just needed to know that Clover was there, that Clover would stay there through it, through everything.

Clover took a slow breath, pausing before he turned; knowing that once he did, Qrow would let go, the dam would break. 

He was surprised to see the tension still in Qrow’s jaw as he finally turned. But his lip quivered slightly and he wouldn’t meet Clover’s eyes. 

It almost happened as they changed out of the suits they’d worn to the reception. Taking his husband’s hand, Clover walked them over to the bed, then moving to drape his vest over the dresser. He turned back, watching as Qrow slowly undressed, pulling a change of clothes from a dresser drawer. Clover saw Qrow hesitate as the glint of silver and green around his finger caught his eye. He saw how automatic Qrow’s motions were, and he knew; he wasn’t forcing himself to hold it together now. Now, he’d held it together for so long, he’d fought it off so much, that he didn’t know how to stop, he didn’t know how to let go. 

It almost happened as they got ready for bed. Qrow looked up as he brushed his teeth and caught Clover in the mirror, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, watching him lovingly. Clover opened his mouth to say something but Qrow just held his reflected gaze for a moment, eyes soft but pleading. So he waited. 

It almost happened as they both got into bed, Clover noticing Qrow sit on the edge of the mattress for a moment before turning and crawling under the covers. The usually clingy, chaotic sleeper laid on his back, staring at the ceiling as Clover settled beside him. The younger man mirrored his partner for a moment, both breathing quietly, the sound blending together neatly. 

Finally, Clover rolled onto his side, facing Qrow. He rested his hand on the soft surface between them and waited. His eyes had just begun to feel heavy when he felt cool fingers lace through his and all tiredness faded instantly. 

Clover’s thumb pulled softly across the back of Qrow’s hand as he watched deep red eyes flicker around, glints of tears starting to pool at the corners of them, his brows raised. 

And he knew he was ready. They were ready. They were a team. Through the good and the bad, and all the things that muddied those concepts beyond all recognition. 

Clover pushed up onto his elbow and leaned over, brushing dark, silver-streaked, bangs from the pale, flushed face that he would wake up to for the rest of his life. His fingers trailed down Qrow’s cheek and over the carefully groomed scruff of stubble along his chin. 

As crimson and teal met, Clover felt the tremble in Qrow’s hand, his cheek. His expression wilted as he held Clover’s gaze, pushing himself up so that they sat side by side. Qrow’s free hand rested carefully on his side and he took a long, shaky breath. 

Clover watched him for one last moment and then leaned in, pulling his husband close by the back of his head, Clover’s fingers trailing through the soft fluff of hair at the nape of his neck. He kissed him slowly, breathing quietly as he felt Qrow try still to subdue the heavy heaving of his chest.

The kiss was soft but unbelievably heavy. It was patient and careful and complete and unbearable. It was everything. 

Clover broke away gently, staying close as he felt Qrow’s lips tremble against his own. Red eyes were now closed tight and the hand at Clover’s side had moved up his back, gripping at a handful of his shirt firmly. Clover let their breath meld together a little longer before he spoke. 

“I love you, Qrow.” 

And only Qrow heard the break in his voice, the vulnerable certainty of his words. 

And he let go. 

He melted against Clover’s chest, pressing up to him, pulling him closer, holding him as tight as he could as his own body shook with sobs. 

Clover guided them back down, curling around his husband as he wept, one hand held firmly in Qrow’s and the other soothingly pulling through his hair. Clover pressed his lips to the soft, downy top of Qrow’s head, breathing in the crisp, citric, bittersweet scent that had become such a safe, precious, presence. 

Clover’s own shoulders shook as he felt the whisper against his neck. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you, Clover.”

And his tears came, his chest bursting with warmth and devotion, with compassion and gratitude. His breath hitched and shook as he buried his face in feathery strands. 

They both clung to the other like their lives depended on it. And it a way, they did. Not in the sense that they couldn't live without the other, they both knew too well that life and love were more complicated than that. But that their lives would never be without the other, the people they were right then, the people they would strive to be each day, were only possible because they'd had the other. Their lives were entwined, inseparable. 

Neither of them could say how long they cried. How long they held each other and faced every difficult emotion as it came because they had the other there to help them through it. How many times they couldn’t find the words, couldn’t form the words, to explain, so they just whispered those same three over and over. Each instance not cheapening it’s meaning, but infusing it with everything they were trying to say. Every utterance made it bigger, fuller, rawer. 

And over time they slowed, breath evening. Clover quieted first and eased Qrow as he followed. Even after they had both calmed, they stayed quiet for a while. 

Eventually, Qrow pulled away slightly, pushing up to come level with Clover. Rust irises flitted over his face, taking in the lines, the scars, the freckles, every inch. He grinned before he leaned in and kissed him, harder, easier, less devotional, and more affectionate. 

He broke away and trailed his fingers over a splash of freckles, frowning lightly as he mumbled. 

“So, really sexy wedding night, huh?” The words were laced with levity, sarcasm. But Clover knew him well enough to hear the thread of apologeticness, of embarrassment and guilt. 

Clover lifted his hand to cover the one against his cheek, holding it close as he turned and pressed a delicate kiss to the pale, scarred palm. 

“It’s with you, isn’t it?” His voice lilted playfully as he smiled.

But he lifted his eyes to meet Qrow’s, lips still light against his palm, as he spoke again, voice softer, honest. “This is what I want Qrow. You. Every part of you. I’m here for it all. I wouldn’t change a single moment of this day. It…”

He held Qrow’s gaze, teal eyes intent with every word. “It was perfect.” 

Qrow stared at him as the word hung in the air. 

Perfect. 

It was a word they skirted around. A word Qrow had learned to evade for Clover. A word with too much past, too much pressure. 

They were never perfect. Not themselves, not together. They both knew how important that room for, acceptance of, flaws was to what they had, what they were. 

They would never have a perfect life, a perfect marriage. They didn’t want to. Perfect like that wasn’t real, wasn’t solid. They didn’t want perfection. They wanted trust, honesty, vulnerability, understanding. They didn’t want fairytales or daydreams or expectations.

They wanted reality. 

Because reality was what had brought them to each other, reality was what had shaped them each into the man the other loved. 

But a day. A moment. A memory. 

That could be perfect. 

Not because everything happened as planned. But because it happened at all. 

And now it wouldn’t be a goal, an expectation. But a compass.

A center point to come back to, where they knew they could always find each other. 

  
  


Tears gathered in Qrow’s eyes again as the word settled and he sighed sheepishly, flicking Clover’s cheek in fond frustration. His voice bubbled with the threat of more tears. 

“Clover! I finally stopped! Why would you-!?” 

Clover chuckled and pulled him closer again, and the new wave of emotion passed much faster than the last. 

But they stayed there, pressed to each other, breathing slowly as they felt the draw of sleep. 

Just before Qrow drifted off he felt Clover’s face press against his hair again, fingers twirling at the back lazily. 

The younger man pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and hummed softly, his voice heavy with sleep. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Branwen-Ebi.” 

Qrow’s breath caught and he managed a shaky chuckle as he pinched at Clover’s arm lightly. 

“Stooooop! Little brat!” He mumbled into Clover’s neck. He paused, drawing a slow breath as he tightened his arm around Clover’s chest. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Ebi-Branwen.”

**Author's Note:**

> A sap fest to make up for yesterday's ouch. 
> 
> This isn't the same universe as Musicians!au wedding. 
> 
> \---------  
> There were 50 prompts originally, but I've already thought of a few more. Also had multiple ideas for a few, which is why some might be listed as chapter 1, with a future version of the prompt coming later.
> 
> Might not end up sticking strictly to the daily thing, but I'll do my best. Either way, here's an ongoing series of little moments.
> 
> Original prompt list - https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts
> 
> Might edit here and there later, but the goal here was to just finish something, even if it's not perfectly polished.


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